KC: Big Small Town

Kansas City's small-town characteristics help in those efforts. "Whoever said it's not what you know, it's who you know, is absolutely right," he says. He thinks people in this town value relationships, family connections and school affiliations. "It helps out businesswise and definitely socialwise," he adds. "It's great because a lot of people will vouch for others when those relationships are needed to do business or whatever it might be."

On a drizzly Thursday night, Bacchus hosts a meeting for its volunteers in the basement party room at Re:Verse. About 30 well-dressed people are milling about in the intimate space. A Bacchus organizer has paired everyone off for a get-to-know-you game. Each person is supposed to find out some interesting facts about his or her new friend before introducing that person to the rest of the group.

The mood is congenial. One woman lives in Excelsior Springs. "But she didn't want me to tell you that," her partner says. A woman in a brown T-shirt introduces a guy who turned out to be her high school crush. Another guy presents Bacchus member Mark Hassenflu to the group.

"You may know his mom. She's the Romper Room lady," he says. The room goes silent.

"You have to say that it's a TV show," another guy calls out.

How did Kansas City become this vortex of interconnection?

After all, the place is big. The Mid-America Regional Council defines the metro as covering more than 3,800 square miles across eight counties (Leavenworth, Wyandotte and Johnson in Kansas; Platte, Clay, Ray, Jackson and Cass in Missouri), with a population of approximately 1.8 million people.

Michael Frisch, an assistant professor of urban planning and design at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, speculates that our being surrounded by a "rural hinterland" plays a role in shaping Kansas City's social life. As small-town opportunities decline, we get an influx of dwellers from outlying areas.

"I think we have a disproportionate number of people who are just one generation away from rural life here," he says. "And I think there's a higher percentage of that here than on average in the United States." He suggests that after moving here, these newcomers tend to re-create their small-town lives by developing intimate social circles. They also tend to live in places with more open space, like the exurbs.

Frisch, who moved to Kansas City in 2002 from Newark, New Jersey, says the big-small-town phenomenon isn't limited to Kansas City. When he lived in Manhattan, he'd run into friends on the subway. He attributes that to the density of New York as well as the nature of social circles to form in certain places that keep you running into your friends.

But he says Kansas City's small-town element is a little different. "I think it's more that we segregate ourselves into these social circles. It's partly negative — racially, we're very segregated, and it's by class as well." He says he tries to get his students to work in various parts of the city and urges them to meet different community leaders.

Another drawback is that decisions are sometimes made in smaller circles, which he thinks reflects the basic politeness of Midwestern conservatism. "People don't want to have contentious public meetings. So perhaps they [decision makers] figure out where they're going to end up and then say, 'Oh, we'll allow the public to participate.' But the decision has already been made in a small circle."

And sometimes, you have to watch what you say. Frisch uses himself as an example. "I lived in New York. I can be very critical, sort of big-mouthy, being direct. Part of that Kansas City nice, Midwest nice is, you might think before speaking. If you want to survive here, it's a good skill to learn."

Frisch has a few other suggestions to break down these barriers, especially for newcomers who find it hard to break into social circles. One is a call for new entrepreneurs to create new spaces where people can meet and mingle.

"Maybe everyone in Kansas City should think about trying to add two people to their social circle every year," he says. "I actually think that by exposing yourself to a few people who are different from you or are new to you, you're going to be surprised how it can change your outlook on things."

He says he came to Kansas City because he saw so much potential here. "It's big enough that significant things can happen here," he says. "But there are times when I wonder if it's just not big enough, and sometimes we're on that line."

Luis J. Garcia knows what it's like to be on that line.

At a party when the Power & Light District opened this past spring, he jokes, "I saw everyone I never wanted to see in my life again."

The 35-year-old Garcia is founder and creative director of Spyn Studio , a multimedia design and marketing firm; his business partner, Nicholas Segura, is Spyn's marketing director. Garcia is also director of the Base Gallery in the basement of the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center at 20th Street and Baltimore. The white-walled gallery leads to Spyn's office, a cool space that's painted dark red and white.